


Flowers Controlling Us

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Finwë would do anything to keep his son from dying.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Finwë
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Flowers Controlling Us

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 100 words of consent issues thread on FFA.

"Atar, please, fuck me," Fëanor begged aloud, even as his thoughts were a mix of desperation and humiliation.

The two had been on a visit to the farthest reaches of Finwë's lands, just the two of them. Finwë had intended it to be a reassurance to Fëanor that he and his sons would not be replaced, even as his younger half-siblings began to marry and have children.

That had been before the ground had given way near the border to Yavanna's fields.

Specifically, the border near one of her experiments. One of the experiments Manwë had assured Finwë would be kept far away from any elves.

Evidently, Manwë had been unable to convince Yavanna that 'deadly if the elf was not fucked sex pollen' was dangerous enough to be banished to the depths of her garden.

Even as Fëanor continued to writher on the bedroll and beg for his father to fuck him, Finwë caught bits of his son's thoughts as he tried to frantically think of what to do.

Fëanor was panicking too, until suddenly Finwë felt his son's thoughts clear of everything but lust and resignation. 'You will help Nerdanel raise my sons, will you not?'

Finwë drew back in shock. He knew of the end result, but - 'You will not die.'

'Atar, I can barely concentrate enough for this - my heart is racing, I cannot stop writhering on the ground and moaning, I long for a cock inside me to the point I would fuck myself upon a bottle if I thought it would help, and we are the only ones around for an hour. You do not have time to take me to someone else or for someone to be summoned here. Eventually my heart will beat faster than-'

'I will take you,' Finwë interrupted. He had not considered such before, but now - now, he could not lose Fëanor too. 

He turned to his bags, frantically digging through them. Where was that bottle? He would need it if he was to do this.

'What are you doing?' Fëanor's moans increased even as he tried to concentrate.

'There is an aphrodisiac in my bags. I must take some of it so that I may help you.' There. His hand closed around the bottle, pulling it out.

'Why is there an aphrodisiac in your bag?'

'I bought it for - well, it really does not matter.' Finwë blushed. His son was too curious sometimes, and Finwë could not focus well enough to divert him at the moment.

'You bought it to use with her,' Fëanor thought back, even as he watched Finwë carefully measure out the aphrodisiac.

He could not lose too much control and hurt his son.

He could not keep so much control he inadvertently killed his son by being unable to take him.

He poured a capful into the water, forcing down his nerves so he would not spill it.

"Once I drink this, I will prepare you, and then we will fuck until the pollen's effects are done. Do you understand me, Fëanáro?" Finwë asked.

"Please, Ata," Fëanor begged aloud. "Yes - yes, I understand."

Finwë quickly swallowed the drink and crawled closer, picking up the oil and spilling it on his hands. Fëanor's switch from osanwe to verbal speech was worrisome, as was the sweat pouring off his body.

Finwë could feel the warmth beginning to spread through his body to his cock, overwhelming the horror he felt and beginning to arouse him. Good. Good, he could not lose his son, no matter what it took.

"I am going to prepare you now," he said, even as he knew it was more for himself than for Fëanor, who was growing increasingly more incoherent.

Finwë gently placed one finger to Fëanor's entrance, even as he knew they did not have the time to do this as he would wish.

Fëanor pressed against it, a high pitched whine leaving his mouth. Finwë added a second finger. If the pollen had been good for anything, it was that Fëanor's muscles were relaxed, making this quicker than it would have been otherwise.

Fëanor shrieked at the third finger, pressing down even harder and tossing his head back.

The aphrodisiac now controlled Finwë, releasing him from his worries. Through a haze, he could barely remember why he had resisted this so much. This was his son, and even as a faint part of Finwë's mind whispered that he had never desired his son and this was only so Fëanor would not die, the louder part was busy admiring all the ways that his son resembled Míriel.

He removed his fingers. Fëanor whined again, high pitched and needy.

"Your mother was the same way," Finwë mumbled. He could barely remember that this too was a bad idea, that this likely was one thing Fëanor had no interest in knowing. "She would have me pleasure her for hours, until she could do nothing but moan. Then I would take her again and again, until we both collapsed onto the bed."

Fëanor moaned again, hands reaching for his father.

Finwë used one hand to pin his son down, the other lining his cock up with Fëanor's entrance.

Then he thrust.

He did not stop until he was deep inside his son, balls pressing against Fëanor's skin. 

Fëanor moaned, a tiny amount of lucid thought showing in his eyes once more.

Finwë barely noticed that, lost in the aphrodisiac induced haze as he pulled out and thrust back in.

"I must take you. I shall not lose you," Finwë muttered. "I cannot. You are all I have left of her."

"Then take me. Fill me, Ata, so that I do not leave you," Fëanor said, thrusting his hips up and matching his father's thrusts.

That was good, Finwë thought, speech meant that the pollen's effects were decreasing.

But the aphrodisiac was not, even as Finwë spilled inside his son. He would have to take himself away, into the woods, so that he would not harm his son, he thought. 

Fëanor pulled himself free, twisting onto his hands and knees and exposing himself to his father once more. "Again, Ata, please."

"I should not. The pollen is gone, you do not need such," Finwë said, even as his own arousal increased again.

"Take me," Fëanor said, words sliding from his mouth in a mimicry of his mother's tone when giving orders. Evidently, Fëanor had registered what Finwë said. "The pollen is almost gone, but you suffer on my behalf. Take me until we both are given relief."

Finwë groaned as Fëanor looked back at him. He knew he would regret giving in when they both were free of such influences again.

But Fëanor raised his hips, groaning, and Finwë moved forward, pushing in once more.


End file.
